No one survives life.

I'm here, got no choice. But you, you should be telling people.

What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is simply the absence of grief.

Please. Don’t switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me out. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don’t express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me.

Your hair is an act of God.

I crave white on white and black, but my thoughts race in glorious technicolour, prodding me awake, whipping away the warm blanket of invisibility every time it sears to smother my mind in nothing.

Only love can save me and love has destroyed me.